


A Very Easy Courtship (Five reasons why Riza Hawkeye goes out with Roy Mustang)

by zauberer_sirin



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist
Genre: F/M, Post-Canon, Pre-Canon, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-26
Updated: 2011-04-26
Packaged: 2017-10-18 17:58:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,358
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/191643
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zauberer_sirin/pseuds/zauberer_sirin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>Hawkeye has many reasons to go out with Roy, these are just some of them.</i> Written in June 2010.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Very Easy Courtship (Five reasons why Riza Hawkeye goes out with Roy Mustang)

  
1.

  
He makes her smile.

(it comes as a shock, after Ishval – she didn't think she was capable, or why should the world keep on turning after so much they'd seen, or what right did she have to?)

She remembers his boyish grin from when he was her father's student and part of it is there still, but it's brighter somehow, against all expectations (hers, at least), as if the comparison between the youthful gesture and Roy's face, older now, a man's face completely by now, and now the skin around the corners of his mouth wrinkles amiably when he smiles.

At first it surprises her and makes her stop, those very first days working under him, after all he had seen and done and what they'd been through together, how he seems to come out on the other side smiling. Hawkeye had worried it would be too painful, learning to look at each other and not be weighted down and saddled by their shared experience. But from the very first moment Roy doesn't seem to consider it a burden, her presence as a constant reminder. Each the living, walking proof of the other's failures. In fact, Roy seems to seek her company and appreciate it, not in as many words, but sometimes with a small detail like a smile when she wasn't expecting one (when he is tired, or discussing something hurtful, or worried about something, that's when those moments happen, as if Roy wanted to use these weak, low moments for reassurance, as if he wanted to balance out the world's darkness with a bit of light and Hawkeye didn't know this about him, he was a strange boy but what a strange man he has become, and she thinks, idly, that she'd like to get to know him).

Those first days – he constructs fictions about himself, plays the fool and applies misdirection to everything he does in front of his superiors, confuses people, starts a small-time myth – Roy smiles a lot, nervously, not finding what else to do around Hawkeye once decisions are made and the rest of their lives begins, but honestly as well.

But it's not that it. Or it's not _just_ that. It's not that he smiles. It's that he makes _her_ smile. He would pull a face or crack a bad joke or make some completely unprofessional and ill-advised comment about his superiors, or he would make silly excuses to put off work until the last moment, like a child, and it would make Hawkeye smile.

Against her will at first, or her better judgement, or against any old lesson about propriety and professionalism.

`I can tell you are just _pretending_ to disapprove of me,´ Roy finally suggests one day, slouching in his chair as if this were his own living room. `You frown but your heart's not in it.´

There, something in his tone. Something light and winged that tells her it's okay, it's fine to smile, and life goes on, and even the worst they were is not everything they are now. A smile is not a treason to anyone's ghost. Happiness is not betrayal, but possibility.

Hawkeye starts to believe in that word, _happiness_. It's a foreign word but it sounds like Roy's voice when he is trying to cheer her up; it's not a word she understands just yet but she thinks she could learn, perhaps.

  
2.

He brings her coffee.

It would be within her responsibilities to bring _him_ coffee – whatever those are, she is not sure, she is in the dark about what he expects of her, those first months that turn into first years, into all sorts of _firsts_ before she realizes, how to define her role, she didn't know that she could do much more than hold a rifle in her hands and keep him safe.

There is a shred of the working day that will forever be theirs, even when they start filling their lives with new people – they are doing that now, Roy considering files of young soldiers, conducting interviews, placing a new face into their office each day, as if he were slowly unpacking a precious chess set and putting the new pieces in their proper spots. Days full of surprises and that makes her uncomfortable at first.

Fixed routines and responsibilities is what she wants, the distance of knowing what to do, the proper way to address him, clear set rules. No such luck. Roy doesn't seem to care for expectations of this sort. He is her boss -the word tingling and tasting odd in her mouth, a word of peacetime that a soldier finds hard to understand- but he brings her coffee to her desk.

`But, sir. I should be the one-´

`Relax,´ he says in that tone of voice that is like a warm hand on her shoulder, a tone that tells her that this is going to be a routine of his. A routine of _theirs_. `Tomorrow we can go back to the status quo of subordinates serving coffee for their officers. Today... Please.´

He is not interested in tradition.

He sits across her. She knows she is expected to say something, to ask if he wants something, a task to be done perhaps. She knows Roy wants something more intangible than that. A _moment_. He sips at his coffee slowly and waits for her to do the same, quietly watching minutes go by. She thinks of the word “loneliness” but it doesn't exactly fit. Roy, with his friend Hughes far in another city, looks just as uprooted as Hawkeye feels. But this is not about that. Or about easing her, and himself too, into days without wars, without battles and fires. This is something else. She watches his fingers tap gently at the cup.

This is just-

`This is nice,´ Roy says, startling her.

His eyes narrow when he grins at her. She can watch him without being watched.

 _This is nice_ , she thinks.

Not the routine she was expecting.

  
3.

Black Hayate likes him.

Some days Hawkeye even wonders if that dog doesn't love Roy better than her.

Rebecca had told her once – she read it somewhere, Hawkeye didn't inquire where, she didn't really want to know – that the test of true love was your pet's acceptance of the man in your life. At that time Hawkeye had pointed out it was very unfortunate, all those poor women who didn't have a pet, for they could never know if it was true love for sure. And what about those who had uncommunicative pets? If you had fish, or a lizard, or a turtle, how could you ever be confident about your lovers? Rebecca had shrugged and said, ` _Well, if you are just going to make fun of me..._ ´

But sometimes Hawkeye thinks back on that ridiculous conversation; when Hayate would wag its tail and leap at the sight of Roy, and Roy would scope the dog up from the floor and carry it happily in his arms and sometimes he would catch her looking at him with an odd expression in her face and say ` _What? I'm a dog person. Didn't you know?_ ´ and then he'd grin and walk away, Hayate contentedly climbing up his shoulder and barking freely.

So that particular conversation with Rebecca is playing in her mind this morning as Roy shows up in her doorstep and offers to take Hayate for a walk in her place.

`You seemed tired yesterday, I thought you could use rest instead of spending your Sunday chasing Hayate as he chases some poor pigeons,´ he explains, leaning on the doorframe a dash too casually, like he is trying.

Hawkeye doesn't think she mentioned being tired yesterday, although at this point in their years together, it doesn't really matter, Roy could have known anyway. Truth be told, she has been busy ever since they moved to Central, they all had. She didn't know the weariness was showing.

`That's just fine, Colonel,´ she refuses gently. `I am happy to walk him.´

`I _know_ ,´ Roy says, giving her a gentle look. `But I thought you might want to stay in this morning, have some time to yourself while I take care of things. I thought I could go do your shopping for you, too. Sorry, I guess I'm being too bold.´

`No, really, sir, that won't be necessary.´

Somehow she is aware of the slight frown when she says “ _sir_ ”; he doesn't care most of the time, they use names and titles like private jokes sometimes, because they are confident of what lies under that mockery of officialness, but sometimes she uses it to close a door and Roy always catches her doing it and subtly guides her attention to it.

`It's not _necessary_ , of course,´ he tells her, crossing his arms. He adds, in a teasing tone: `But maybe _I am_ happy to do it. Not all of us are as lucky to have a cute dog, and we get lonely.´

Hawkeye shakes her head (but he makes her smile) and turns around and back into the flat.

`I'll go get Hayate, thanks,´ she says.

And she remembers Rebecca's theory about men and pets and true love, and it's ridiculous, but she is really glad Hayate likes Roy so much.

4.

He doesn't die.

Which was, actually, her only condition, after all.

 _Don't die._

She said it many years ago.

She said it, many years later, when, thinking he might lose her to the approaching storm (when the Furher called her to his side and Roy was left alone, an empty office and the fingers in his hand twisted into a fist), he broke down and took her hand and told her.

Later, a bit later, the lights in the empty office dimmed but Hawkeye still there and Roy's hand still closed over hers, he laughed it off.

`What do you say then?´ He said. `When this is all over... Would you like to go on a date with me?´

Hawkeye said: ` _Don't die._ ´

And he doesn't die. He comes out of it wounded, pained and weary. They both do. Together – shoulder to shoulder, balancing each other. Bruised. But smiling. Alive. The only condition she ever set. The only promise exchanged between them, and not even in words (that didn't matter, they have long since learned to do without words).

But it is very much like Roy, she thinks – not knowing if with fondness or frustration – when, some time later, when he is sitting casually on his hospital bed, hands bandaged and scratches on his face, healing but recent, eyes following the lines of her own scars, different but mirror images, parallel, joined, he leans into her and says,

`Then are you free for a date this next Friday?´

  
5.

He makes her smile.

It's a good reason, so she lists it twice.

The light has changed, she thinks. It's the same building – repainted, rebuilt in parts, reclaimed somehow, but it's the same window, the same sky. Perhaps not. Maybe her eyes have changed. Roy is rescuing files from carefully locked drawers, pretending he is five minutes late to a meeting to which he is, in fact, five minutes too early.

`Don't fret,´ she tells him, placing her hand on the small of his back and winning his attention.

He turns, expression comically serious, like a stubborn little boy.

`This is important,´ he admonishes. `This is one of those meetings-´

`One of those meetings that will go down in history as the real birth of the new Republic of Amestris, yes, I know, I've heard it before,´ she repeats, she mocks, she teases.

Roy sighs. He counts and recounts the pages inside the folders in his hands. Hawkeye grabs his wrists, she steadies him. She smells a little bit too much aftershave and nervousness.

`You are going to be great,´ she concedes.

He nods, relaxed now, enjoying the feel of her fingertips across his pulse.

`Will you wait for me until I'm done? We'll go home together?´ Roy asks in a small voice.

Hawkeye nods.

`It could run long,´ he adds.

`I'll wait.´

`Really?´ Roy asks, as if he still wasn't sure this is all real. It's still a new thing and the hands on his wrists -they are still there, unwanting to leave- are not taken for granted, the brush between skin an exciting and painful reminder of the hours until they are home and free and with each other.

`Yes,´ Hawkeye assures him.

She presses her palms along the sides of his uniform – it's perfectly ironed but she straightens it out again, because she knows Roy appreciates it, like he _needs_ her to make sure he looks good and proper and business-like. She pretends there are creases in his coat just to run her hands along the lapel. He watches her with wonder and desire. His hair is too neat this morning and Hawkeye feels the urge to mess it.

She grins.

`What?´ Roy asks.

`You make me smile,´ she says and he frowns, a rare moment of impulsiveness; they had decided early against being one of those couple who are always telling each other every little thought.

Roy puts his hand on her forehead, pursing his lips in a gestures of overstated worry.

`Are you ill?´ He inquires.

Hawkeye brushes him off, gently elbowing him.

`Go to your meeting already,´ she says, trying not to chuckle. She tuts: `So unprofessional...´

He goes for the door, hitting her shoulder with the documents in jest.

`See you later.´

`We'll see if I decide to wait for you after all,´ Hawkeye replies.

`Yes, yes,´ he is out of the office already. Down the hallway he says loudly, ` _You'll wait_.

She makes a point of crossing her arms and looking annoyed, even though there's nobody there to witness it. She will not descend into such madness so easily. She will, at least, save some face. But because there are no witnesses -there never were, not when it mattered, anyway- maybe she can also acknowledge she's still smiling a bit.

It's a good reason, so she lists it twice.


End file.
